staring into our bright future
by still.fly
Summary: Ochako is hit by a quirk that sends her hurtling nine years into the future. She wakes up to a few surprises.


Ochako woke up slowly, eager as always to hold onto sleep—especially when she was warm and cozy and relaxed like this. She felt like she'd had the most heavenly sleep of her life last night, and there wasn't a chance that she wouldn't milk this lazy feeling until the very last second.

She stretched out like a cat before snuggling back into the pillows with a smile on her face.

A deep, masculine chuckle interrupted her peace.

Her eyes shot up and she bolted up, blindly throwing a pillow at the pervert who decided to sneak into her room.

"Oi!" was the response of the perpetrator—the very _shirtless_ perpetrator that was standing at the foot of the bed. That was...a very distracting torso. The kind of torso you see in movies. A fan service torso, all littered with scars and tight muscles to make your mouth water. The kind of torso that puts other torsos to shame.

"Oi!" the voice to the torso repeated in irritation, probably because she didn't respond to the first 'oi' fast enough. Her eyes flicked up to the dude's face, and her eyes widened in shock. She froze up, clutching the bedsheets to her body and staring at the man—at _Bakugou Katsuki_—like he'd sprouted wings and a second set of eyes.

The irritation in his eyes evaporated instantly, replaced by some softer emotion, and then Bakugou was closing the distance between the two of them. He kneeled at the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup her cheeks and wipe away the tears she wasn't aware had been leaking from her eyes.

"Hey, Ochako," he said much more quietly, "what's wrong? Thought you were having a _good_ dream."

He frowned when she tensed up even more, silently soothing her without realizing that he was the source of her anxiety.

Nothing was making _sense_. Why was Bakugou in her room? Why was he shirtless? Why did it feel like _she_ wasn't wearing all that much clothing underneath the sheets? While Bakugou was in her room? Shirtless? Why was he trying to comfort her? Why was he touching her so freely? Why did he have scruff and a scar across his cheek when she was positive neither of those things were there yesterday?

Her eyes flitted around the room as if her surroundings could answer her questions.

She immediately realized that _this wasn't her room_. This wasn't even U.A.

"B-Bakugou?" Ochako sniffled, glancing up into his worried, red eyes.

"Yeah, angel?" he responded, his brows pulling together for a split-second. One of his hands pushed back her dishevelled hair, the other one coming up to rest on her forehead like he was checking to see if she had a fever.

"Where are we?"

She watched him blink at her question, watched the confusion bloom cross his features. Confusion. On _Bakugou's_ face. She stared back with just as much confusion in her own eyes, seeing his brain work _something_ out. And then he was leaning away from her, holding his hands on her shoulders at arm's distance as he squinted at her.

"How old are you, Uraraka?" he asked, the familiarity of her surname on his lips somehow putting her at ease.

"Eighteen?" she said, wiping at her tears. She wasn't sure why her age was important, but Bakugou seemed serious when he asked.

"Shit," he groaned, standing up and then sitting down on the edge of the bed. He put his head in his hands, rubbing the muscles across his temple and cheekbones before peeking at her through his fingers. He looked away with another groan and muttered to himself, "today of all days, huh?"

Ochako grabbed a pillow to smack him with.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" she huffed, glaring at him despite her eyes being swollen and puffy. At least her tears had stopped.

"I'm trying to figure out how I can soften the blow, cheeks," he grumbled, throwing the pillow right back at her, "so give me a second, will ya?"

"_You_ want to soften the blow?" Ochako inquired incredulously. "Just _tell_ me."

"_Fine_. You asked for it." He took in a long breath to compose himself, before looking her dead in the eye and saying, "You were hit with a quirk, right? Knocked you out n' you woke up here?" He waited for Ochako to think it over and nod before continuing. "'Here' is nine years in the future. That bitch ass quirk that sent you here was called Life String or some other bullshit—s'kinda irrelevant though. The point is, you're stuck here for at least a day." Bakugou sighed, reaching out and pinching her cheek to tug on it. "You never told me it was the same day as the motherfucking Heroes Gala."

Ochako batted his hand away, rubbing at the assaulted cheek with wide eyes at his explanation.

"The _future_!?" she exclaimed, her mind reeling. A plethora of questions were jumping through her brain chaotically, but there was one jarring enough for her to grab onto. "W-what are _you_ doing here, Bakugou!?"

Bakugou snorted, waving his left hand in front of his face. Her eye caught on a glint of metal, and her eyes widened even further.

"I'm your husband, cheeks," he declared proudly, his very bare, very _sculpted_ chest puffing out.

Ochako's brain fried.

The resounding "eh!?" she let out was probably heard throughout the city.

* * *

Bakugou showed her what part of the dresser housed her clothing and then left to let her get changed by herself, saying something about how he'd get breakfast started. Ochako watched him put on a shirt and leave, still a bit in shock thanks to the bomb he dropped on her.

She—their entire high school class, really—should be used to him dropping bombs by now.

She was at least grateful to her future self for preparing Bakugou for this day—it was weirdly comforting that he knew what was happening. She felt like a fish out of water, but somehow it was Bakugou's explosive hands that were keeping her steady.

She stood up, the sheets falling off her body. She was wearing a shirt that was so large on her it draped over her ass, and she realized with a strange flutter of her stomach that it was probably Bakugou's shirt. She also realized with a more concerning lurch in her stomach that she wasn't wearing a thing underneath.

Was that Life String quirk meant to make her die of embarrassment? And was her future self really shameless enough to sleep in nothing but her husband's shirt?

Ochako shook her head, because of course her future self was that shameless. If you can even really call that being shameless. That's exactly the kind of thing you'd do with your spouse. That's exactly the kind of intimacy Ochako has always dreamed of having with someone someday. She's just a little shocked that someone will end up being foul-mouthed, perfectionist, rough-around-the-edges _Bakugou_.

The way Bakugou talked about this entire ordeal, it sounded like future Ochako knew _exactly_ what day this would all be happening on. So what _was_ shameless was for her to go to sleep in _nothing_ but her husband's shirt knowing full well that her younger self would wake up in it a flustered mess.

Ochako huffed as she opened one of the drawers Bakugou said was hers.

And then flushed.

And _eeped_.

And shut the drawer as quickly as possible, because that was definitely her _underwear _drawer and there were a lot of frilly pieces of clothing that _might_ of been strung together daintily enough to be classified as underwear but Ochako certainly didn't need to know of their existence or think about _why_ they might exist.

Coming to the mortifying conclusion that she'd need to rummage through the drawer to find some _modest_ underwear, she reopened the damned thing and shuffled through it with a red face.

The tamest pair of panties she could find had little explosions on them.

She thought she might be able to find at least _one_ pair of underwear that she could slide up her legs without blushing, but even these had her all frazzled.

She eyed a discarded bra on the edge of the bedroom and slipped that on, realizing with a hum that she'll fill out quite a bit after high school.

Ochako tentatively opened up the drawer below the cursed panty drawer, and let out a sigh of relief when she saw that it was full of leggings and jeans and shorts. She opted for the leggings before raiding the closet for a shirt. When she finally left the bedroom fully clothed, she felt a lot more at ease and in control of the uncontrollable situation.

She padded through the apartment with sparkles in her eyes, astounded that she'd ever be able to afford a place like this. The decor was this weird mix of modern simplicity and homey chaos and she wondered if both her future self and Bakugou were both too stubborn to give up their tastes. Ochako giggled, because it was kind of an eyesore. But still, everything in the apartment was _nice_ and well taken care of and it kind of made her warm knowing that she'd fulfil her promise to her parents. She would never indulge in this kind of living if she hadn't first given her folks the easy life—she was sure of that.

When she found her way to the kitchen, Bakugou's back was turned to her as he flipped a pan of eggs like it was nothing. The sizzle of food cooking was loud enough for her to wonder if he heard her arrival.

"Tell me about what's going on in your time," he grumbled from the stove, glancing at her from over his shoulder.

She jumped because she really thought she managed to sneak up on him.

"Oh! Um," she started eloquently as she sat down at the bar, ripping her eyes away from his back—there was just something really attractive about a man who knows his way around a kitchen. "I've been spending a lot of after school hours at my internship—it's been a lot of fun, but also kind of stressful when that's combined with schoolwork and my social life."

"You do make it a point to be friends with everyone," Bakugou snorted fondly, plating the eggs before dumping a bunch of sliced bell peppers into the pan. He shrugged, stirring the peppers around. "You'll do fine, so don't stress too much over everything."

Ochako cocked a brow.

"Are you supposed to be disclosing this much information about my future?" she teased. "Doesn't that, like, alter the timeline?"

"It's the _you_ that got to spend a day in her future that ended up marrying me," Bakugou stated with more of that pride that was really insanely flattering because that pride was founded in simply being _married_ to her. "So I'm not really worried about it."

"R-right."

Bakugou turned slightly away from the stove to smirk at her.

"That reminds me, sweetheart," he said wolfishly, his red eyes glinting with mirth. "How long exactly have you had a crush on me for?"

"C-crush on you!?" Ochako exclaimed too loudly, suddenly finding the salt and pepper shakers in front of her _very_ interesting. "I don't have a _crush_ on you!"

"You think I've missed the way you've been eying me up?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "I am the _expert_ at knowing when you're eying me up. S'okay if you've got a little crush. S'really okay if you admit it too." He sent her a grin that was all teeth. "Promise it will be our little secret."

Ochako gaped at him, because _was he flirting with her?_

"I _don't_ have a crush on you," she puffed, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Hmm," Bakugou hummed like he didn't believe her one bit, plating the bell peppers with the eggs and sprinkling pepper over them, "I'll get you to admit it before the night is over."

Ochako sputtered at that—her brain working in overtime to come up with a witty retort to wipe that smirk off his face, but ultimately coming up short.

Bakugou chuckled at her reaction, dividing the eggs and peppers evenly on two plates before bringing breakfast over to the bar. "You're way too easy to rile up, cheeks. S'cute."

She harrumphed, glaring at the wall pointedly.

He sat down at the bar right next to her, his burly shoulder brushing up against hers. He thankfully stopped teasing her, allowing Ochako to replay their conversation—she would never admit it out loud, but she was definitely still trying to come up with a comeback. And she was still coming up short, because what the hell do you even say to 'I'll get you to admit you have a crush on me'?

'No you won't, Bakugou. Because I don't _have _a crush on you'?

That would be a _lie_. I mean, it was more like admiration but she couldn't deny that he had a lot of attractive qualities.

And she's pretty sure he doesn't need her to stroke his ego. His ego seems to be doing _just_ fine.

She chewed her food for a moment and then mentally smacked herself.

_That's_ what she should have said!

"What are you thinking about, angel?" Bakugou interrupted her inner musings, side-eying her with a quirked eyebrow. He probably saw the trademark pout on her face that meant she was playing out conversations in her mind. All her friends pointed it out to her, never failing to mention how cute she was with her cheeks puffed out.

"Nothing!" Ochako answered too quickly. She shovelled more food into her mouth in a stupid attempt to end the conversation, ears burning red under his scrutiny.

Bakugou barrelled out a laugh that shook his chest—a laugh that was downright contagious and had Ochako giggling along with him.

"You haven't changed at all, have ya?" he observed, pinching her cheek affectionately.

Ochako batted his hand away from her cheeks for the second time that morning, wondering if he had a thing for them. "That doesn't even make any sense, Bakugou. I'm from the past. Of course I haven't changed."

"Makes perfect sense," Bakugou countered, closing his teeth around a bite of eggs. "You were doing this same shit yesterday morning."

Ochako rolled her eyes, turning back to her food.

She could _feel_ Bakugou rolling his eyes right back. He shoved the last of his breakfast into his mouth, before getting up to put his dish into the sink. She ate the rest of her meal with her thoughts, zoning out on Bakugou's figure as he loaded the dishwasher.

So she was here for a day, huh? What would she even do for a full day? Did her future self have hero work to attend to today? Would she need to call in sick? Did she have a boss to call in to? Was she her _own_ boss? Did Bakugou have patrols? Was she going to be left alone in this strange world all day, not knowing what the hell to do?

Bakugou mentioned something about a Heroes Gala, and she wondered if she could finagle her way out of that. Seemed like something too posh for her—even if it was an event put on for the top seventy-five heroes of Asia.

Holy shit, was _she_ in the top seventy-five? Or was she just invited because _Bakugou_ was in the top seventy-five?

"We have the day off today," Bakugou said as if he'd just read her mind. "We had plans to meet Deku and Kirishima at the gym at noon, but I can always tell them you weren't feeling well. Or to fuck 'em in general if you don't want to be alone right now. But," he loaded the last plate into the dishwasher, "I want you to know that _you_ were the one that made these plans. On the day of the motherfucking Heroes Gala." He squinted at her. "Huh. Everything is starting to make sense now."

"Making sense for _you_," she grumbled, pushing her plate towards him sheepishly.

It's not that working out with Bakugou, Deku and Kirishima—the burliest guys she knew—didn't sound fun. She was a strong girl—trained regularly to keep up with her other classmates who had more direct and packs-a-punch type of quirks. But she knew Deku and Kirishima fairly well—even knew Bakugou well enough to know that he would push her to her very limit at the gym. And the limit they have in their mind for her probably exceeds the limit _she_ has for herself.

She chewed on her lip, glancing up at Bakugou who was waiting patiently for her to make a decision.

"_I_ made these plans?" she asked, to clarify even though he was pretty damn transparent in the first place.

"Was all you," he affirmed.

Ochako sighed.

"...Fine."

Bakugou grinned.

* * *

"Oh, just so you know," Bakugou started when they were in the elevator—the gym was walking distance from their apartment, and it was a breezy autumn day. Bakugou was bundled up, and had yelled at Ochako for trying to walk out of the apartment without a scarf on. He tied it around her neck himself, and she was now busying herself with taking in its scent. It smelt like cinnamon and spices and it was reminiscent of the explosive blonde. "Deku and Kirishima are dating."

Ochako's eyes widened.

"Oh," she said with a smile, "wow. That's actually pretty surprising. I would have never thought they'd go for each other. But that's good. Really good. Deku was always so hard on himself; I'm sure Kirishima drowns him with praise."

"You're right about that," Bakugou grumbled, shuffling out of the elevator when they reached the main floor of the complex, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. "They never shut up with their praise. Shit's annoying."

Ochako rolled her eyes, but her smile remained.

They walked out into the busy streets of Musutafu, the brisk air pinking their noses and cheeks. Ochako stuck close to Bakugou, not wanting to be separated amidst the crowds of people on their way to work. He glanced down at her when she grabbed onto the strap of his gym bag, but said nothing about it as he guided her through the sidewalk traffic. Ochako marvelled at how easily he weaved his way through it all—people seemed to get out of his way because of the confidence in his steps and the wide set of his shoulders. Ochako was a little jealous. She wondered what it would be like to be Bakugou for a day.

When they got to the gym, Deku and Kirishima were waiting for them outside. Ochako noted that they stood a modest distance from one another, but she could see that they were holding hands. And smiling like dopey, love-struck fools.

Ochako refrained from squealing at how _cute_ they were.

When Deku spotted them, he waved them down.

"Kacchan! Ochako-chan!" he called, pulling Kirishima with him to meet them halfway. Ochako grinned up at the couple—they were both _a lot_ taller than when they were in high school. It was a little surreal seeing her friends so much older without having been there for the life experiences that lead up to this point. She felt like she was getting a peak at a completely different world or some kind of alternate universe rather than her actual future.

"You both are looking lively as ever," Kirishima greeted, flashing his sharp teeth and pulling Ochako into a hug. She found her face pressed in between two impressive pecs and then she was being squeezed vigorously by arms the size of a support beam. Kirishima pulled back before she could pass out from lack of oxygen only to allow Deku to pull her in next.

"Hands off my wife!" Bakugou growled. It took her a second to remember he was talking about _her_.

"Okay," Deku conceded, letting Ochako go with a smile and a shrewd look in his eye.

"But it's your turn next!" Kirishima declared.

Ochako laughed as their friends smothered Bakugou in a group hug, eliciting loud explosions and swear words from the blonde. One would think they hadn't seen Bakugou in _years_ with the way they were embracing him. Guessing by Bakugou's reaction, they probably see each other more than once a week. She's pretty sure that he _bit_ Deku, but Izuku only laughed and tightened his arms around him.

Bakugou snarled something about going into the gym and killing them, so the two boys pulled back and slung their arms over his shoulders—effectively creating a walking brick wall. Ochako laughed, joining them at Deku's side and yelping when he threw a heavy arm over her shoulder too. They walked into the gym as a unit, gathering stares from those passing by. People were taking pictures, and Ochako suddenly remember that they were _pro heroes_.

When Ochako went into the women's locker room to get dressed, her nerves from earlier crawled up her stomach. She tried to shake it off, knowing that her future self wanted her to see something here with the boys but it stubbornly clung to her as she stripped off her winter wear and slipped into the exercise clothing that Bakugou had found for her.

The boys were waiting for her outside of the locker room—their workout clothes were _obscene_, but Ochako figured she wasn't much better. Her future self was more fit than she ever imagined herself being, although she still had some softness on her tummy and legs. But it wasn't unattractive, and Ochako liked that she could feel this kind of confidence in spandex shorts and a sports bra.

Plus this is what Bakugou had packed for her, that perverted bastard.

"Damn, Ochako," Kirishima whistled as she walked out. "You're lookin' like a _snack_."

Ochako burned red, glancing over at Bakugou when he let out a warning growl.

"Don't flirt with my wife, you shitty-haired bastard!"

"Why not? _Someone's_ got to flirt with her."

"I flirt with her just fucking fine!"

"Challenging her to fist fights doesn't count, Katsuki. Just because you consider getting your ass kicked as foreplay doesn't mean that should be your only seduction tactic."

"What the fuck do you even know about seduction tactics?!" Bakugou snarled loudly.

"I'll have you know that Izuku is a _sucker_ for my seduction tactics," Kirishima declared proudly, turning to Deku and batting his lashes, "isn't that right, babe?"

"H-hey guys," Izuku interceded, blushing profusely and pointedly not accepting Kirishima's bait, "let's not get kicked out of another gym."

"Fuck you, Deku! You can't even keep your damned boyfriend in line! He thinks he can _flirt_ with my _wife_!" Ochako wondered if Bakugou found joy in declaring that she was his wife.

"Eijirou," Izuku pleaded.

Kirishima pouted playfully. "O-kay. I'll stop for you, Izuku." Faster than Ochako could blink, Kirishima perked up with a smile and grabbed Deku's hand. "Let's go!"

They stretched first, which Kirishima used as an excuse to get close to Deku to 'help' him. Bakugou offered to help stretch her legs by pushing forward on her back as she reached, but she declined that offer. He shrugged and began stretching his arms, but Ochako regretted turning him down as soon as she started reaching past her toes.

It was...really easy. Too easy. And she would probably get way more out of her stretching with the aid of another person.

She begrudgingly turned back to Bakugou and asked him to help her after all and he smirked at her as if he'd been expecting that all along. His hot hands pressed into her back as she stretched, adding some of his weight to it and giving her the pressure she needed to feel that satisfying tension in her muscles.

Bakugou left her alone to finish the rest of her leg stretches, to which she was grateful.

They started out on the treadmills, jogging to heat up their muscles before they got to the big, scary _weights_. Apparently it was _leg_ day. Leg day was the _worst_.

They split up after their warm-up. Bakugou guided her to the barbell, adding an alarming amount of weights to it.

Her eyes nearly bugged out when he motioned for _her_ to step forward.

"Bwuh?" she let out, because she'd been certain those were _his_ weights to squat with, not hers.

"No usin' your quirk, angel face," Bakugou teased, reaching out and kneading her neck a bit. "Show me what you've got."

"That's a _lot_..."

"I've seen you lift semi-trucks with your bare hands," Bakugou countered, levelling her with a look.

"With my _quirk_, I'm sure!"

Bakugou shrugged. "So what? Both take mental stamina. If you don't think you can do it, then you won't be able to fucking do it. But the round face I've always known never backs down from a challenge n' puts her all into being the one to come out conqueror. Drives me fuckin' batshit with worry sometimes. But there's a reason why you're everyone's favorite rescue hero."

"Please don't exaggerate, Bakugou-kun."

"I never exaggerate," he retorted simply. "And don't call me that. S'fuckin' weird. I like 'Katsuki' a lot better on your lips."

"You do, huh?" Ochako inquired, stashing that bit of information away for later use.

"I see you scheming," Bakugou grumbled, rolling his eyes, "when I should see you _squatting_."

"Okay, okay," she huffed, stepping towards the barbell. She ducked her head underneath the bar, setting it on her shoulders and taking in a deep breath to steady her mind. Then she lifted the bar from its resting place and let the entirety of its weight drop down onto her shoulders. She shifted her feet, making sure they were in the right spot to squat correctly while also getting her bearings. It wasn't as heavy as she expected—the younger version of her body would never be able to _stand_ with this much weight holding her down, much less successfully squat. She must of trained with fiery dedication to get this far.

"Ten reps, sweetheart," Bakugou said. She could see him behind her in the mirror—was he even _trying_ to hide the fact that his eyes were trained on her ass.

She squatted down with burning legs, holding the position for a moment before straightening back up. She glared at Bakugou in the mirror as he counted out her reps, weirdly motivated by his intense gaze. With each rep her legs burned even further, but it wasn't enough to make her doubt herself. She _could_ do this. Holy _shit_, she could do this.

"Eight," Bakugou counted, his eyes trailing after a bead of sweat on the skin of her neck. "Nine." Ochako grunted as she squatted for the tenth time, forcing herself to breathe as her screaming legs worked against gravity. "And ten."

Ochako let out a sigh of relief, hooking the bar back on its latch and stepping away with legs not as shaky as she was expecting.

"We'll take turns in between sets," Bakugou told her, stepping forward to begin removing some of the weights.

"You're not going to add more?" she asked, nodding towards the weights he set down.

"You think I'm fucking crazy?" he asked, shaking his head and stepping under the bar. "I'll work with this for now, cheeks. Don't worry, though. I'll catch up to you in no time."

Ochako grinned, suddenly feeling like she could take on the entire fucking world.

* * *

"Wow, guys!" Ochako chirped to them as they walked to lunch, full of energy despite having just gotten done with a rigorous workout. "Working out is _fun_. Has working out always been that fun? We should do that again!"

Bakugou thrust a water bottle full of something thick and _interesting_ into her hands, his eyes declaring that there was no argument on whether or not she would drink it. "Rest is just as important as the workout—remember that, cheeks."

"Super manly that you're so gung ho, 'Chako," Kirishima smiled from Deku's other side. "What's got you so pumped today?"

"Oh, uh," Ochako sputtered, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly and taking a swig of the protein shake Bakugou had prepared for her. "Blegh." She shook her head as if that would drive away the nasty taste in her mouth. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, Kirishima-kun." She tried to ignore Deku's conniving, squinted eyes.

"Kirishima-kun?" Kirishima echoed, quirking his head at her.

"Today's _the_ day, isn't it?" Deku inquired before Kirishima could press further, looking from her to Bakugou like he was trying to find the answer in their facial expressions. Which. He probably was.

"Ya fuckin' think?" Bakugou snorted. "She's like a fish outta water right now."

Deku hummed. "So you're married to Kacchan, Ochako-chan. What do you think about that?" He elbowed her playfully.

"Lay off, Deku," Bakugou rumbled, "she's obviously fucking elated."

"Obviously," Deku echoed with a soft smile.

"Eh?" Kirishima piped in, wanting to understand what was happening. "Do you mean that today is _the_ day?" He eyed Ochako up and down. "You're little 'Chako from the past?" Ochako nodded numbly, unsure as to why everyone seemed so excited. "No wonder you're so stoked about that workout! You're strong as hell, huh?" He grinned, good-natured exactly like she remembered him from high school.

Ochako nodded, throwing up her arm to flex even though the effect was lost due to her winter layers. "I can't believe I was able to keep up with you guys!"

"Why?" Bakugou huffed. "You're a badass."

"And Bakugou likes your bad_ass_," Kirishima grinned, hardening up his skin to prepare for the oncoming explosion. Ochako wondered how much she could blush in one day before it became ridiculous.

"Is that Ground Zero?" they heard from nearby.

"Yeah! And I think that's Red Riot with him!"

"Does that mean Uravity and Deku are here too?"

"Look! They're right there!"

"Dekuuuuu!" A gaggle of girls called out to the green-haired hero, rushing across the street without a care in the world.

"Time to go," Bakugou muttered in her ear, wrapping his hand around her bicep and pulling her into an alleyway.

* * *

After they managed to escape Deku's fangirls and after their lunch break, Bakugou declared that it was time to leave and get ready for the Heroes Gala. Which set aflame her nerves anew. They left the little cafe they'd found, reacquainting themselves with the winter air as they parted ways with Kirishima and Deku and walked quietly back to their apartment building.

Ochako shuffled closer to Bakugou to steal his natural body heat.

"Katsuki," she said, testing out his name on her lips, "when did we get married?"

Bakugou snorted, throwing an arm around her shoulders. And for some reason, she let him keep it there. "You think I'm spoilin' that surprise? Nice try, mochi cheeks."

Ochako pouted. "I bet I could get Deku-kun to tell me."

"You could try," Bakugou grunted, dropping his arm. "But Deku knows I'd kill him if he gets too loose-lipped. He'd probably let me do it too just to make his murder unsatisfying like the little shit he is."

Ochako smiled, knocking her elbow into his. "I'm glad you two are friends again."

"The hell about what I just said makes you think we're _friends_?"

Ochako raised her eyebrows at him, sending him a look the clearly stated she wouldn't be taking _any_ of his bullshit. Bakugou eventually crumbled under her gaze, and Ochako was unsure how to process _that_.

"Fucking whatever. We're friends. So what?"

"It just makes me smile, is all," Ochako said, shining her teeth at him.

Bakugou hummed, sending her the softest look she's ever seen. "Well. Keep smiling."

She blushed. _Again_.

* * *

When Bakugou pulled out the dress she had been planning to wear to the Gala, Ochako almost fainted. It was a gorgeous gown—something a model shoulder wear and _not_ her. It was blood red, floor length, glittered in the light, and had no back. It had _no back_.

"How much did this cost?" Ochako exclaimed, eyes bulging at the garment hanging on their closet door.

"Hah? Not a cent! It's a gift from my parents."

Somehow, that made it worse—now she felt immense pressure not to spill on it, or accidentally step on the end of it and rip it, or sweat too much in it, or vomit on it from nerves...or even look at it, because she knew somehow even _that_ would screw up its perfection.

"How much did it cost _them_?"

"Fuck if I know!"

Ochako kissed her teeth, ready to chew Bakugou out for the sake of her future self but then remembered that her future self probably had already done the honors.

Bakugou sighed and then shuffled her into the bathroom. "C'mon, penny-pincher. No point in worrying about it now. S'already taken care of. And it's time to do your hair and makeup—your favorite thing in the world."

And by 'it's time to do your hair and makeup' he meant that _he_ was doing her hair and makeup. Because he apparently 'promised his old hag that he would'. And by 'your favorite thing in the world' he meant that it was actually one of her _least_ favorite things in the world.

She had to sit completely still when he was doing her hair or else she'd incur the wrath of perfectionist Bakugou. But she just wanted to _see_ what he was doing. It definitely felt like he braided a portion of her locks on either side of her head at one point and she _thinks_ he wrapped those around the crown of her head but she didn't know for _sure_ and wanted to _see_. She was constantly trying to turn her head to get a look in the mirror, and every time she did Bakugou would grab her face and force it forward again. And he didn't even try to be gentle about it.

When he declared that it was time to do her makeup, she breathed a loud sigh of relief and turned around to get a look at her hair.

And, of course, it looked _perfect. _Most of her hair fell around her shoulders like usual, framing her face the way she liked. He _had_ made her a crown of braids—a conglomerate of big and small braids that he pinned somewhere unseen. It all came together elegantly, and Ochako marvelled over Bakugou being good at this kind of stuff.

"Alright, beautiful," Bakugou said, uncapping a bottle of mascara, "chin up. No blinking for a second."

His face was really close to hers as he applied the mascara to her lashes, and she caught herself staring at him. He had an easy sort of concentration in his eyes, void of any tension in his features. His lashes were unfairly long, adding to how striking his ruby eyes were. Her eyes travelled down to his lips. They were parted slightly, and Ochako could see that he was gently biting down on his tongue. She wondered if he realized he was doing that. His jaw was a lot more sharply cut than it'd been in high school, his features less soft in general. His skin was still just as immaculate though—not a blemish or wrinkle in sight, aside from the scar on his cheek. She guessed that was a side-effect of his quirk.

Bakugou was handsome.

As that thought registered, her face bloomed into another blush. He smirked like he knew exactly what she was thinking, but otherwise didn't say anything about it.

He actually didn't do much as far as makeup. Other than mascara, he only added some glitter to her cheeks to match the dress. When she looked in the mirror, however, she felt like he'd done way more. She didn't even realize she was gaping at her own reflection until Bakugou was lifting his hand to gently shut her mouth.

"Don't look so surprised," he grumbled, blushing slightly. "You're stunning, Ochako." He reached up to pinch at her cheeks for _the third time that day_. "I think it's your big ass eyes combined with these sweet mochi cheeks."

Ochako shrunk away from his touch like a cat, and said without thinking, "do you have a thing for my cheeks or something?"

"Which cheeks?" Bakugou grinned, leering at her. "Not that it really matters, because the answer is yes to both."

Ochako sputtered and blushed, not knowing what to say to that.

Bakugou chortled, pushing on her shoulders to steer her back to the bedroom. "Go get in that dress, angel face. I'll finish up in here." He nodded to the suit he had hanging from the shower rail.

Ochako did as he said, _carefully_ slipping into the dress and hooking the thin collar around her neck. She realized with mortification that she'd have to go braless in this one, so she undid her bra quickly and flung it to the side of the room where she found it this morning.

"You decent, sweetheart?" Bakugou inquired from the other side of the bathroom door after a few minutes.

"Y-yeah!" she answered back, grateful that Bakugou was giving her this kind of space. Even if he had ogled her ass at the gym.

He entered the room in his dress pants and shirt, a black tie and a vest the same color as her dress in his hand. He'd done something to his hair. It was parted on the side, although it was still as explosive and spikey as ever. It was a good look on him. Ochako kind of wanted to thread her fingers through that hair—has he _always_ been this attractive?

He finished dressing himself efficiently before pulling out their shoes from the closet. He slipped his on and then kneeled down at the edge of the bed where she was sitting to lift her foot by the ankle and help slide on her heels. He did it without a word, fastening the tiny buckles together around her ankles before setting her feet down and winking at her.

"Let's go," he rumbled, standing on his feet and offering her his hand to help her up.

Ochako almost fainted again when she saw the car they were taking to the Gala. It was a shiny, sleek sports car—the kind that make you drool when you see them in movies. It was a _sexy_ sports car, and Bakugou was sliding into the driver's seat in really nice dress clothes and there was just something so weirdly attractive about all of it. It all felt so surreal—she could hardly fathom her future including showing up to fancy events in _style_. She definitely felt like this was all out of her league.

"I could really do without all this shit," Bakugou told her, cutting off her thoughts as he turned onto the street. "The parties. The suckin' up to the companies we want to endorse us. The people. Stayin' up late even though I've got morning patrol tomorrow."

Ochako snorted at that one.

"I won't complain about the dancing though," he glanced at her in the rear view mirror. "You'll dance with me, right? At least once?"

"Y-yeah," she said, heart fluttering, "sure."

"Hn. Then I suppose it's not an entire waste of an evening."

Ochako giggled. "Why do you go to these things if you hate them so much?"

"Helps my public image, gets my PR guys off my back, gets _you_ off my back," he listed off, turning left onto another street. "Rank announcements."

Ochako cocked her head to the side. "Where do you fall in the ranks, Katsuki?"

"We'll find out tonight now, won't we?" he grinned.

Ochako rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm not totally stoked for this either," she admitted, picking up the skirt of her dress. "Just judging by this dress, this is going to be way to fancy of a night for me."

Bakugou shrugged. "You'll be fine. Just a bunch of heroes in suits and dresses. 'Sides, you were the one that insisted we go."

When they arrived at the event, Bakugou stepped out of the car first and walked around the other side to help her out. He handed his keys off to a valet, and then offered Ochako his arm to hold onto. His mind-set was probably something along the lines of acting natural so as not to incur weird questions about their relationship, so Ochako looped her arm through his and allowed him to tug her along the red carpet. Not to mention she was _freezing_, and Bakugou was incredibly warm.

"Is that _Shinsou_ with _Kaminari_!?" Ochako inquired, pointing at the two men down the red carpet. She's pretty sure that was Shinsou's arm wrapped around the blonde's waist, but it also could be a trick of the light.

"Mind-fuck actually showed up?" Bakugou said to answer her. "He hates these things more than I do."

"Ground Zero! Uravity!" one of the photographers off to the side of the red carpet exclaimed, stealing their attention. They threw their camera up, and the next thing Ochako knew she was being pulled into Bakugou's side by a hand on her waist. She blinked, feeling suddenly unsure of how to act for the media_._ But if _Bakugou_ of all people was humoring them, then she figured she could at least play the part. So she settled against Bakugou's side, resting a hand on his stomach as she smiled for the camera. A crowd of photographers swarmed behind the first, lights flashing in their faces. After a few beats, Bakugou pulled her forward so that they could continue walking along the red carpet. Bakugou made it a point not to stop for any of the photographers after that so they could get inside as quickly as possible and escape the cold air.

A crowd of their classmates cheered and hollered when they walked in, beckoning the couple over and making kissy faces at them. Ochako squinted at them—there was Shinsou, Kaminari, Sero, Mina, Jirou, and Momo. It was Kaminari, Sero, and Mina hooting and hollering at them while the others watched with fond looks on their faces.

"Kill me," Bakugou muttered to her, moving to walk in the opposite direction.

"Oh come on, Katsuki," she said, pulling on his arm, "let's go say hi! Isn't that the bakusquad, anyways?"

"Don't call it that," Katsuki griped, begrudgingly letting her pull him along. "It's a stupid ass name, and I hate it."

Ochako grinned.

"Well, look who decided to come tonight!" Mina yelled as she swiped a shrimp shooter off a platter, startling the poor worker carrying around the hors d'oeuvres. "It's the Bakugous, showing us all up—you guys look _hot_!"

"Thanks, Mina," Ochako smiled shyly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Aw," Mina cooed, patting Katsuki on the back, "don't look so grumpy, Kat! You've got a whole night where you get to ogle your smoking hot wife in _that_ dress. M'pretty sure we're _all_ going to be ogling her."

Katsuki's eye twitched, and he wrapped his arm around Ochako's waist again as if to say _eyes off_.

"Are you trying to rile him up?" Shinsou inquired with a shit-eating grin. "You want a repeat of the last event they showed up to?"

"You weren't even there, Hitoshi," Kaminari said with a pout. "Your eyes remain pure, while all of ours have been defiled."

"Oh yeah," Jirou snorted, "I'm sure his eyes are _so_ pure."

"What happened at the last event we went to?" Ochako hissed to Katsuki, elbowing him in the side.

"Nothing you didn't consent to," Katsuki grunted, rubbing at his side and leaving it at that.

"Well, now my _ears_ aren't even pure," Shinsou complained. "Get a room."

"Nothing is pure anymore, dude," Sero consoled. "We accepted that back in high school when Kaminari accidentally sent the group chat a picture of his o-face."

"Ugh," Jirou groaned, "_don't_ remind me about that."

"Yes, I thought we agreed that never happened," Momo added sweetly.

"It was an _accident_!" Kaminari exclaimed. "And at least it wasn't a picture of my dick!"

"Or my dick," Shinsou added.

"I hate you guys," Jirou deadpanned, downing the glass of wine in her hand.

"Eijirou! Izuku!" Mina yelled as the couple walked inside, cutting off the conversation and waving her arms around wildly. Kirishima's grin threatened to split his face in two as he ran towards their group and lifted Mina into a bear hug. Deku followed at a more reasonable pace, watching with fond eyes as the redhead twirled Mina around in a circle.

"Hey guys," Deku said, standing on Katsuki's other side. "Have you guys found a place to sit yet?"

"Let's find tables right next to each other!" Mina exclaimed, jumping out of Kirishima's arms so that he could give hugs to everyone else including her and Katsuki despite having seen them only hours earlier. They slunk off to find a table, leaving their purses and coats behind to claim their seats. Katsuki grumbled something about going to get drinks, leaving Ochako to stare at the extravagant venue with eyes of wonder.

"Have you seen Shouto yet, chibi 'Chako-chan?" Kirishima asked, snickering.

Ochako's brows scrunched together in confusion. "No. Why?"

"Drop it, Eijirou," Deku chided, except the effect was lost because he was smiling. "Ochako doesn't need to know—"

"About the Uravity tattoo Shouto has on his lower back?" Kirishima finished. "I think the fuck she _does_ need to know about that."

"Shouto's kind of your biggest fan," Deku explained.

"The fuck he is!" Katsuki barked, slamming down the drinks he got for the two of them on the table and sitting down in a cloud of anger. Ochako squinted at their glasses—did he really only grab water?

"Or maybe he just likes to piss your husband off," Deku allowed.

"Or both!" Kirishima added brightly.

"Or both."

"That half n' half bastard just needs to exist to piss me off. But no one's a bigger fan of Uravity than _me_."

"Oh yeah, Kacchan?" Deku teased. "Then show me _your_ Uravity tattoo."

Katsuki flipped him off.

"Hey," a new voice greeted from the side, grabbing their attention. Ochako glanced up to see a bulky Todoroki Shouto with shorter, stylized hair in a tux.

"Hey Shouto," Kirishima and Deku chorused, twin smiles on their faces.

Shouto sat down right next to Bakugou, making the blonde groan and the other two boys widen their grins. Ochako smiled at the hilarity of it all—the longer she got to know Todoroki just in her short time at U.A., the more of a jokester he became. She could only imagine what he'd be like nine years later.

"What's this about a Uravity tattoo?" Ochako asked, a smile on her lips.

"Don't encourage the bastard," Katsuki growled, glaring at Todoroki.

"Hm?" Shouto hummed, standing up again and reaching for the back of his shirt. "Did you want to see it again, Ochako?"

"No!" Deku and Kirishima exclaimed at the same time, standing up in a rush to push Shouto back in his chair all while avoiding the landmine that was Bakugou Katsuki.

Eventually, both Tsuyu and Iida joined them at their table. Ochako found it a bit comical that Bakugou was sitting with most of the Dekusquad rather than the squad with his own namesake, but she figured either way he'd just be sitting saying nothing with a bored glaze over his eyes.

"When's the dancing?" Ochako asked Katsuki as the lights dimmed and their attention was pulled to the stage. Servers began to enter from the kitchen with plated meals, and Ochako wondered how they were able to move around without any light.

"After the awards," he said simply, scooting his chair closer to hers.

The man on the stage welcomed them to the event, and offered up a nice little speech about the importance of heroes in their society. Ochako listened to every word, astounded that she was getting to listen to this. Yeah everything might be a bit too extravagant for her tastes, but the intention behind all the posh was good.

There were a few more speakers before they listed off the ranks of the top seventy-five heroes. They started backwards, a modest applause given for each hero called. Ochako was excited for all of her classmates who'd made it in the top hero ranks, and she cheered and hollered with everyone else as their names were called. Ochako startled when her _own_ hero name was called, falling in the ranks at number twelve. The two tables of her classmates went wild around her—even Bakugou was clapping and smiling at her.

It wasn't until they got to the top three that the heroes were asked to come to the stage to receive their medals.

"Number three: Shouto, the fire and ice hero!"

Shouto stood up and went to the stage with an expressionless face, accepting the medal around his neck and standing off to the side as he and the announcer waited for the applause to fade.

"Number two: Ground Zero, the explosive hero!"

Ochako gasped even though she'd been expecting him to be in the top three. He winked at her as he got to his feet, following the path that Shouto had taken to the stage. As she watched him climbs the steps to the stage, her shock wore off and all that was left behind was _excitement_ and _pride_. Bakugou was the number two hero? That was so cool!

"And Number one: Deku, the undaunted hero!"

Kirishima roared as Deku walked up to the stage and Ochako joined him, beyond excited for her friends. They were such great and hard-working people, and deserved this kind of recognition. Even if Shouto looked indifferent, Bakugou looked smug as hell, and Deku looked like he wanted to die under all the attention.

The announcer asked the room to give one more round of applause for _all_ of the heroes in the industry, and the resulting roar from the audience as they got to their feet and clapped made Ochako afraid for the foundations of the building. But she still joined in with a laugh of excitement. After what felt like minutes of this chaos, the crowd finally settled down and the man at the mic announced that there was still one more award left to give: Hero of the Year.

Ochako sat down, smiling as she listened to the man talk about attributes the Hero of the Year exhibited and why they pick who they pick.

"We chose someone this year who never lets a tough situation shake them, who's always going the extra mile to save as many as she can—the Hero of the Year _this_ year goes to none other than Bakugou Ochako, our gravity defying hero!"

If she thought the audience had been out of control _before_, it was nothing like it was _now_.

Ochako blinked, forgetting that she should probably _go up there _to accept her reward until Kirishima clapped her on the back. Then she was standing on shaky feet as she weaved her way through the throngs of cheering heroes. She walked up the steps to the stage, the stage lights blinding her as she accepted the plaque and sash from the announcer.

This was overwhelming. She could feel tears of amazement and joy stinging at her eyes—or maybe they were already falling down her face? She couldn't believe this. This couldn't be real. Never in a million years had she imagined herself achieving something like this. The roaring crowd went quiet at her display of emotion, and a moment later she was being pulled into strong arms.

"Congratulations, sweetheart," Bakugou murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Ochako let out a watery laugh, holding up the plaque for the entire room to see and watching as the audience applauded once again.

* * *

"Time to dance, angel face," Bakugou said later, after the men got off the stage and some of the lighting was turned back on. There was music now, and already there were couples and groups of friends filling the dance floor. "Next song is a slow one."

"How do you know?" Ochako inquired, already accepting his outstretched hand.

"Because I requested something slow," he said, rolling his eyes. "Now come on."

Ochako giggled, waving to their friends at their table and following Bakugou onto the dancefloor.

"I don't know how to dance, Katsuki," she said with a laugh as he was pulling her arms up to wrap around his neck. She tried to control her blush when he settled his big hands low on her waist, but her brain was too busy screaming at how close he was to her.

"We won't do anything fancy," he murmured. "Like holding you like this. Just sway with me, beautiful, and that'll make me happy."

Ochako felt her face heat up even more at that, but she bit her lip and nodded. They swayed to the slow beats of the song, Bakugou dipping his head down to look into her eyes. She's never been all that intimidated by him, but in this moment she couldn't help but feel completely out of her depths. She could drown in those red eyes if she wasn't careful.

"You're a really good husband, Katsuki," Ochako admitted with tinted cheeks, making him smile.

"Oh?" he rumbled, pressing her impossibly closer to his body. "Is _this_ the part when you admit you have a crush on me?"

"Maybe," she grumbled with a pout, eyes averted.

Bakugou hummed, pressing a kiss onto her cheek. One of her hands moved down to rest over his heart before she could think better of it—it was beating wildly under her fingertips and _she_ was the one making him feel like this.

Her heart was beating just as fast.

"Well, that's good," he said quietly but with passion, resting his forehead against hers, "because I _love_ you, Ochako."

"Wow," she breathed out in awe before her brain could stop herself. She really felt like she was experiencing a completely different world.

Katsuki chuckled and moved to rest his head on top of hers, wrapping his arms more securely around her.

They stayed close to each other like that for the entire night.

* * *

When Ochako woke up the next day, it was to the sound of her alarm blaring. When she opened her eyes she was back in her U.A. dorm, back to the routine she was used to.

She smiled as she shuffled around her room to get ready for the day, promising herself to go to the gym after class.

She met up with Iida and Deku in the common room, and they walked to class together. They chatted about recent villain situations and what heroes were involved in saving the day, and Ochako just listened. Her brain was full of too many fuzzy thoughts and feelings for her to think of anything to say. But Deku and Iida didn't seem to mind.

Her heart skipped when they walked into class 3-A as her eyes locked onto a head of explosive, blonde hair. She followed Deku over to his seat behind Bakugou, squaring her shoulders as she approached his desk.

"Hi," she said to him brightly, "Katsuki."

She watched with deep pleasure as his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened at the use of his first name.

"Uraraka," he acknowledged, averting his gaze.

"Wanna train together sometime?" she asked, giggling at his reaction.

"Sure," he said.

"We can talk after class about specifics," Ochako continued.

He nodded, red eyes tilting up to meet hers.

Ochako laughed again, moving to sit at her own desk as Aizawa-sensei finally made his way into the classroom. She ignored all the stares she was getting from her classmates, sitting down in her seat with a smile of triumph on her face.

She was definitely looking forward to her future.


End file.
